


A Simple Arrangement

by vulcanhighblood



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Forgive Me, Hunk/Lance mention, Keith/Lance mention, Not Underage, Onesided, Pain, Smut, heavy on the hurt, im bad at fluff, im sorry this isnt as fluffy as i intended it to be, lance makes a brief appearance, light on the comfort, lol yeah right, no-attachment smex, seriously a lot of sex, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanhighblood/pseuds/vulcanhighblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Have sex with me?” you say casually. It’s half-question, half command. Hunk fumbles and nearly drops the servo he's about to install. </em><br/>It was supposed to be a simple arrangement; logical, methodical… a way to address certain needs without making things overly complicated. Instead, you're trapped in your own head, with a sensation not unlike suffocation constricting your chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cupcake_kei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcake_kei/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my greatest fan/best friend/cheerleader/moirail cupcake_kei. It's probably not exactly what she was expecting but hopefully she, and everyone else reading, can still enjoy it for what it is!  
> ALSO: For the purpose of this fic, everyone is 18+  
> please don't read if you are a minor

It was supposed to be a simple arrangement; logical, methodical… a way to address certain _needs_ without making things overly complicated. It was supposed to be _simple,_ you think glumly, staring at your distorted reflection in the brushed metal surface of the robot you're supposed to be repurposing. Instead, you're trapped in your own head, with a sensation not unlike suffocation constricting your chest.

It had started out as a simple arrangement. So how had it all gone to hell so damn fast?

* * *

_“Have sex with me?” you say casually. It’s half-question, half command. Hunk fumbles and nearly drops the servo he's about to install._

_“W-what?” he chokes, eyes wide._

_You frown, feeling the first twinge of uncertainty.You’ve planned this proposition for the better part of a week, but you still hadn't been sure exactly how Hunk would react. “If you want to, that is,” you say quickly._

_“Wow, I…” Hunk stares intently at the servo as he installs it with painstaking care, taking about three times as long as usual to perform the simple task. “That's, uh. That’s quite an offer,” he finally says, finishing the installation and glancing your way for only a moment before becoming enthralled with the wiring on an external coolant processor. “Mind telling me why, exactly, you're interested in dancing the horizontal tango with me?”_

_“I'm a sexually active, self-described ‘horny’ eighteen-year-old female. You're a nineteen-year-old male, a point in a male human’s life characterized by high libido.” You shrug, because you don't want to sound too pushy. You are merely stating fact, after all. There's absolutely no reason why your heart should be pounding this hard. “I was under the impression that you are bisexual, though if I am mistaken I offer my sincerest apologies.” You frown then. “I am aware that your bisexuality does not account for your ‘type’, and if I am not your type I assure you I will not be in any way put off by your rejection.” You nod decisively, certain your argument has been persuasive and sound of logic._

_“Wow you, uh, you really seem to have thought this through,” Hunk chuckles nervously, wiring and re-wiring the same strip several times without ever looking at You. You begin to feel irritated by this._ Just look at me, dammit!

 _“Yes_ , _” you say, more defensively than you like to admit, “It seemed the most logical course of action.”_

_“Oh really?” Hunk replies, voice high and slightly strangled. “How so?”_

_“Lance would never be able to keep it a secret, he'd slip up,” you begin, ticking reasons off on your fingers. “Keith would make it far more awkward than something as natural as sex has any right to be,” you continue, ignoring the choking noise Hunk makes at the word ‘sex’. “Shiro is like a brother to me, so that's out for obvious reasons.” You shrug. “And honestly, Coran is too old and Allura isn't my type. That leaves you.”_

_“Yeah I guess when you put it that way it does seem real neat and tidy,” Hunk mutters darkly._

_“I'm sorry, are you upset?” You blink hard, failing to see the problem. It’s all so simple. Surely Hunk can see that. It makes perfect sense._

_Hunk snorts slightly, and then answers. “Actually Pidge? Yeah, I am upset, a little bit.” He turns around then, and his face is no longer red, but pale. His voice shakes with anger, but not the threatening kind. It is the kind of anger commonly accompanied by tears of frustration. “I know I'm a guy, and guys aren't supposed to want romantic gestures or some bullshit like that, but to be honest for a minute? I'm not about that, and telling me that I'm basically the least appalling living being in your vicinity who happens to have a dick is_ really _unlikely to get me in the mood. Ever.” He bites his lip and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Then he opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more before thinking better of it. “I'm gonna go,” he says. “Thanks for the...offer. I guess.”_

* * *

You suppose you were lucky Hunk was so thick-skinned. And forgiving. Because he'd come back, later, and told you that he'd overreacted, and that he was actually interested, if you were.

You definitely were. Looking back, you can see that you hadn't been completely honest with yourself. It had been logical, yes, but in part because you felt _comfortable_ around Hunk. You liked his hugs, the way he smelled equally of baked goods, sweat, and engine lubricant. The way his body would sometimes press up against you as the two of you worked, close enough to not only feel his softness, but also his broad, tightly coiled muscles beneath the surface layer. You _wanted_ Hunk. But you hadn't wanted a relationship. At least, not then. And you’d probably ruined the one shot you’d had at turning your arrangement into something more, and for what? To keep from getting hurt.

You'd told yourself that you couldn't lose anyone else, and that was why you _had_ to hold everyone at arms length. Except, you are only now realizing, holding someone at arms length indefinitely doesn't ensure that you won't come to care for them. It just makes it easier to lose them. It seems like everyone eventually disappears from your life, one way or another. Despite knowing this and taking the appropriate steps to avoid the pain of yet another loss, somehow you've found yourself in the unenviable situation of being unable to imagine living a life without him. Without Hunk.

It was supposed to be a simple arrangement.

* * *

_“So tell me again how this works?” Hunk says awkwardly. He's perched on the edge of his bed, fully dressed and looking ill at ease._

_“We have sex. No strings attached,” you say, feeling a slight bubble of irritation. You just want to_ **fuck** _ **,** dammit! Less talking, more fucking! _

_“Okay, well, just so you know I'm a cuddler, so,” Hunk is staring at his hands, twining in his lap as he speaks. “Is that allowed to be a thing, or…?”_

_You're not surprised Hunk is a cuddler. You’d rather expected it. “I won't spend the night in your room. I won't go on dates. Cuddling is fine. Kisses can be negotiated. Just no relationship, okay?”_

_Hunk nods jerkily. “Okay,” he says softly. His face is turning red. “So how do we…?”_

_In answer,  you peel your shirt off, tugging it over your head and throwing it to the floor. When you look up again, Hunk is staring at you, desire slowly creeping into his face._

_“Oh,” he says. “Okay.” He glances down at himself. “Should I-?!” he cuts himself off in a strangled squawk as you straddle him, crawling into his lap to push his vest back over his shoulders, sliding it down his arms and onto the bed. You curl your fingers up under the hem of his shirt and start to tug, but he grabs your hands. “You're sure?” he asks, uncertain. He looks worried, skeptical...like he can't believe this is happening._

_“I know what I want, Hunk. I want_ all _of you,” You tell him firmly. This seems to assuage whatever momentary doubts he'd had._

_He grips the back of his shirt and tugs it forward, shirt rippling over massive shoulders, biceps, forearms… The shirt is gathered around his wrists, which hover between your respective faces. You're still perched on his lap, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours before he tosses his shirt to the floor, where it joins yours in an unceremonious pile. He lowers his hands back to his sides, slowly, watching you. His stomach is expansive. A few soft rolls form as he curls in on himself slightly, looking away. A blush of shame crosses his features and that’s not what you want to see._

_“What are you doing?” you ask him._

_He looks at you. “I've never,” he begins to say, then pauses._

_“Never what?” you prompt impatiently._

_“Never done this with my shirt off,” he says quietly, and you feel a wash of pity flow through you._

_“You look great, Hunk. I like your skin a lot more than your shirt anyway. It smells nice,” you say, pressing up against him so you can sniff his neck. He_ does _smell good, you realize. Better than you expected. Mmmm._

_Hunk grunts a little, but he cranes his neck to give you full access to his throat. “Wow, okay,” he says as you inhale deeply, “thanks?” his voice squeaks a little, and as you shift forward to press closer to his soft, firm torso, you feel something pressing up against you. Hunk makes a throaty noise, and you feel a bloom of relief. He's aroused. Excellent. You'd been a little worried that he wouldn't be interested in your type but apparently that had been an unfounded fear. You roll your hips, and he makes a noise that has your insides clench a little in anticipation._

_“So,” Hunk says as you pull away from his neck, reaching behind your back to unclasp your sports bra, “what exactly are we…” he trails off, eyes glued to your chest as you pull off the restrictive sports bra with a contented sigh. “Wow,” he says, when he can speak. “I...wow.”_

_You ease off his lap, and a look of mild panic crosses his features as you reach for the clasp on his pants. “Are you-” he clears his throat, tries again. “Are you sure?”_

_You nod, determination in your gaze. “Are_ you _?” you turn his question back on him._

 _He nods jerkily, swallowing hard. You tug his pants open, his briefs nicely tented, there’s a small roll to his stomach just above the waistband. There is a cluster of dark hair trailing down from his bellybutton,thickening and darkening as it descends. You hum a little, liking the view. You tug his pants down a little, then glance at Hunk. You don't have nearly enough muscle mass to peel his pants off him while he's still sitting on them. “Do you mind?” you ask, and Hunk sputters, scrambling awkwardly to his feet, yanking his pants down. He can't look at you, his face bright red as he stands there in his --_ **_Star Trek_ ** _underwear. He would. It's so purely_ **_Hunk_ ** _that somehow you're not at all surprised. Instead, you sink to your knees, fingers curling into the waistband of his briefs. “May I?” you ask, and Hunk spares a glance at you before nodding jerkily._

_You pull them down gently, and once freed from the confines of starfleet-logo-patterned cotton, his dick springs to attention as you peel the underwear down, past his knees, his ankles… He kicks them off, and you step back, admiring the view and congratulating yourself. This was way nicer than anything Lance’s skinny butt had to offer._

_The sensation of victory is short-lived, however, as Hunk refuses to look you in the eye, preferring to stare blankly at the upper-left corner of his room. He's blushing madly, and his shoulders slump down and inwards, hands resting on his ample stomach, inching towards his exposed genitals._

_You clear your throat, and Hunk turns to you, somewhat startled. You indicate the waistband of your own pants. “Care to do the honors?” You say somewhat dryly. Hunk hurries to comply with your request, crouching on one knee, broad fingers plucking delicately at the fabric of your pants. He undoes the button, pauses at the zipper, dark eyes meeting your green. “Okay?” he asks, and you resist the urge to scoff._

_“In case you've forgotten, this was my idea,” you tell him._

_“Yeah, but that doesn’t invalidate a ‘no’,” Hunk reminds you, and even though you already trusted him implicitly, somehow, you feel even safer._

_“All right then, how about ‘hell yes take my fucking pants off right now, oh my god I am so into this’?” You smirk, loving the way your words make him blush a violent red._

_“T-that'll do,” Hunk stammers, unzipping your pants and gently sliding them down, the occasional brush of a fingertip here, a thumb there sending tingles of pleasure curling in your gut. There's a sort of hollow feeling inside you, like you're hungry, but the hunger is centered closer to where your legs meet as opposed to your stomach._

_His fingers pluck nervously at your panties, and you want to strangle him, a little. “_ Take them **off** _,” you say, almost violently, so_ **_ready_** _. You're almost frantic with need._

 _He takes them off, though he does so more carefully than you would have preferred. Now that this is finally happening, you want it so_ badly; _you want it rough and fast and Hunk is so gentle and painstakingly slow. You don't want to give too many directions though, you're really something of a novice at this and can't be entirely sure of what you really want. Aside from your own fingers (and a few toys Allura was kind enough to share with you-- unused, she had assured you, and you believed her), you've never really experienced any sort of sexual congress.  You're afraid it won't be much of a performance this first time around. You hope Hunk isn't too disappointed with what you can manage._

_You step out of your panties, and Hunk settles his broad, calloused hands on your hips, forehead tipped against the bare skin below your belly button. His silky bangs tickle your stomach a little, but not to the point of actual discomfort. The top of his nose brushes gently against the curly hair growing atop your outer folds, and he inhales deeply. He stays like that for a few seconds, then pulls back. His pupils are blown wide with desire. You're sure that your own match his in size and intensity. “Okay?” he says again._

_“Almost,” you say, and point at his bed. “I want to taste you,” you say, and his eyes widen._

_“You do?” He sounds entirely too surprised._

_“Hell yes,” you assure him. “If you're all right with it, that is.”_

_You don't think you've ever seen him move so fast. He's on the bed, legs splayed comfortably, watching you with concern, his dick pointing almost directly at you. You indicate for him to move back a little and he does. You crawl up between his broad thighs, the light friction of skin-on-skin sending warmth flooding through you. You pause at his dick, not actually sure how to do this._

_Hunk mistakes your hesitation for something else. “You don't have to,” he says softly._

_“I've never done this before,” you say, tilting your head to assess the very nice piece of ‘equipment’ before you. “I don't want to hurt you by accident.”_

_“Go slowly,” Hunk suggested. “And, uh, maybe take off your glasses?”_

_“But I won't be able to see you,” you say, aware that you're whining but unable to suppress the petulant tone._

_Hunk’s face reddens again. “Oh, that's… okay,” he says. “I'm not much to look at anyway,” he adds in a mutter._

_“I beg to differ, but you're probably right, the glasses might get in the way,” you pull them off, handing them to Hunk. He rolls over ever-so slightly, stretching one arm out to gently place them on the bedside table. He turns back onto his back, and you can't make out his features clearly anymore, but you can see well enough. “Okay?” you ask, and he responds with with a husky “yeah”._

_You wrap your small, pale fingers around his thick, dark shaft, enjoying the feel of it in your hand, the way it fits in the curve of your palm like it was made to an exact specification. You look at the head for a moment, then give it a tentative lick. Somewhere above you, Hunk makes a little noise. You_ **_like_ ** _that noise. Emboldened, you suck the tip into your mouth, and Hunk_ **_groans_** _. You flick your tongue around a bit, getting a feel for the warm foreign object in your mouth, mentally cataloging the motions that seem to generate the most positive reactions from Hunk. A few seconds pass, and you suck it in a little bit further. You're trying hard not to scrape him with your teeth, and you're not entirely sure what to do with your hands. You’d read somewhere that playing with his balls was supposed to improve the experience, so you reach down blindly, finding them without much trouble. For some reason you'd expected them to feel like your own breasts, but actually they don't feel much at all like your breasts. They are fun to rub and gently squeeze, however, and Hunk seems to enjoy it well enough._

_You turn your attention back to his dick, trying to get it a bit deeper, sucking a little harder. You get a small choking sensation though and ease off a bit, you don't want to gag and accidentally bite down. You pull back until the head rests at the tip of your lips, suck him back in, and repeat the motion several times, focusing intently._

_“...idge! Oh god, Pidge I’m gonna, I’m--” Hunk is pulling back, but you follow him with your mouth. You feel him stiffen and suck harder. Hunk is almost wailing, his dick twitching. He spurts then, once, twice, your mouth filling with a bitter, strange taste not quite like anything you've ever had before. It drips from the corners of your mouth as you sit up, his come dribbling down your front, droplets painting your chest and trailing down towards your navel._

_Without your glasses, you can't clearly see Hunk’s face, but you can feel his eyes on you. You swallow once, twice, and again.  The strange bitter taste is still in your mouth, but overall it hadn't been as bad as you'd expected._

_“You didn't have to swallow,” Hunk says softly._

_“Wanted to,” you say shortly, before looking down at yourself with a rueful chuckle. “I still managed to make a mess of it, though.”_

_“A_ **_hot_ ** _mess,” Hunk says, and you appreciate the comment. He hasn't said much in terms of compliments, or really anything at all so far. You blame nerves. Still. It is nice to hear him say something reaffirming. It's good to feel wanted._

_“I try,” you reply with false modesty, half wondering how you're going to get yourself cleaned off, the white fluid dotting your chest and abdomen already beginning to dry._

_Hunk is sitting up halfway, braced on his elbows. “Mind if I return the favor?” he asks._

_“Only if you want,” you tell him, and he bobs his head up and down enthusiastically._

_You crawl up the bed, and Hunk rolls on his side to make room. You reach the top of the bed, and for a moment you're close enough to see the raw desire on Hunk’s face, then he is moving down the bed, gently spreading your legs to see the many folds that envelop your entrance. He brushes them with a finger gently, and the sensation sends shivers through your whole body._

_“I'm, uh, pretty new to this too,” Hunk confesses, “so tell me when to stop, or keep going, or whatever. I could use some coaching.”_

_“Okay,” you say, and he pulls the flaps open slightly, a curl of chilly air hitting the sensitive skin. You feel the gentle puff of warm breath on your most intimate area. Moments later, a warm, wet appendage brushes tentatively against your skin, and your toes curl at the sensation. The touches are light at first, like butterfly kisses, slowly growing in confidence. He doesn't move around much, and you tell him breathlessly to “explore more”. He moves in a circular motion then, wide circles, narrow circles, fast circles, slow circles. It's clumsy, but effective, and you feel yourself getting wet, fluid seeping out from deeper inside you. He buries his nose in your curls, sending his tongue deeper and you_ **_wail_** _, it's so good but not enough, not deep enough, not enough to_ **_fill_ ** _you and you need to be filled._

 _“Hunk,” you gasp, too quietly. You try, again, louder. It comes out half-command, half-sob. “_ ** _Hunk!_ ** _”_

 _He stops immediately, and that's exactly what you_ **_don't_ ** _need right now. “I need you,” you gasp, breath coming in desperate gulps. “ **P**_ ** _lease_** _,” you add, “right_ **_now_** _.”_

 _Hunk makes a low noise in his throat. He takes your thighs, lifting them with ease and_ **_damn_ ** _if that doesn't make you ten times wetter.  He settles your knees around his hips, fumbling for what seems like an eternity but can't be more than a minute. He tries to slide in, misses about half a dozen times before the tip_ **_finally_ ** _finds your entrance. He moves with agonizing slowness, stretching you carefully. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearably so, and as he slides deeper, you feel the muscles inside you rippling and relaxing to accommodate his warm, slick member. You realize the fumbling he'd been doing must have been lube - you’d forgotten in your haste, but apparently Hunk had been coherent enough to take the appropriate steps prior to penetration. You appreciate his foresight, seeing as you're reaping the benefits thereof._

_He sinks to the hilt, and his weight on you is heavy, but nowhere near crushing. His powerful thighs ripple beneath you, broad arms planted like tree trunks on either side of your pillowed head. His breath gusts in your face and smells of mint and something cloying and tangy -- your own scent, probably still lingering on his tongue. The thought shouldn't turn you on but it does, for whatever reason. Mint. He must have brushed his teeth. You’re  strangely pleased, in part because the mouth is teeming with bacteria, and partly because it shows the level of care and preparation that went into the arrangement. You’d been certain Hunk was the best choice - this simply confirmed what you'd already known._

_Hunk is shaking from the effort of holding still. “Okay?” he asks, voice husky and dripping with desire._

_“_ ** _Move_** _,” you command, and he_ **_moves_** _._

_You can't seem to hold in the sounds you're making, and the sliding friction, in and out, is so good it's almost painful. He presses down, not too hard, but the soft weight of his belly puts pressure on the sensitive cluster of nerves along your pelvic bone, sending shivers of pleasure through your whole body. You wrap your legs around him as best you can, head pushed back, panting and gasping as you feel a pressure build, almost like you need to pee, but not quite. It's right there at the edge and you feel him twitching. “Pidge,” he's shouting, “Pidge! I'm coming!”_

_“Then_ **_come!_** _” you shout, the sensation almost unbearable, and he shouts, something warm and wet filling you, dribbling out as he pulls out and flops bonelessly beside you, panting heavily. You're gasping for breath yourself, the shrieking jolts of pleasure slowly fading to a dull contentment._

_“I'm sorry,” Hunk murmurs after a moment, breath ghosting over your ear. You turn to your side so you're lying face-to-face, allowing your confusion to show on your face._

_“Sorry?” you repeat. “For what?”_

_“You didn't…” Hunk coughs awkwardly. His eyes are sagging with exhaustion, but he fights to maintain eye contact with you. “You know,” he says, blushing._

_“Orgasm?” you prompt._

_He nods swiftly, sweat-soaked hair tangling with the pillowcase. It's becoming more of a mess with every bob of his head._

_“I don't have to orgasm to thoroughly enjoy myself,” you tell him. “It takes me a_ **_loooong_ ** _time. Don't worry about it.”_

 _“I'll do better next time,” Hunk promises, even though you’d just_ _told him that didn't matter. He yawns loudly, blinking in surprise. “I guess I'm tired,” he says. “We should probably get cleaned up.”_

_Neither of you move._

_“Orrr,” Hunk shifts slightly, curling one arm around you, “We cuddle for twenty minutes,_ **_then_ ** _get cleaned up.”_

_He's soft, warm, and a solid presence before you. You curl into his chest, his arm encircling you as you press your head into the hollow just below his shoulder. He smells like sweat, engine lubricant, sugar cookies, and sex._

_You've never smelled anything better._

* * *

Sighing heavily, you survey the room with a critical eye and realize that you simply can't do this right now. You’re staring at the scattered robot bits around you like you're seeing them for the first time. You are entirely too preoccupied to be working with such delicate equipment.

With a grunt, you push yourself to your feet, fighting off the feeling of sheer _frustration_ at the unfairness of it all. But it isn't unfair, is it? It’s karma. A grave you've dug yourself. This heartache is all the result of you trying so hard to _prevent_ more heartache.

You can't even tell Hunk how you feel, not after…

* * *

_Hunk sinks into you. The two of you fit together like interlocking pieces of a puzzle, and it feels so_ **_right_** _. His hands are on you, fingers digging ever so slightly into the sensitive flesh of your hips. You arch your back, loving the way he holds you effortlessly. You shift slightly, seeking more sensation, and he takes your cue, rolling his hips a little. You lean back into him, loving the way his stomach presses against the small of your back in this position._

_He makes a noise, groaning something that sounds suspiciously like “I love you.”_

_You freeze. “What?” you say, voice cold and flat. This was not part of the arrangement. This_ **_cannot_ ** _be part of the arrangement._

_“I,” Hunk’s voice is high and quavers with suppressed emotion. “I had to,” he begins, but you cut him off almost immediately._

_“No,” you say, “you did_ **_not_** _.”_

 _“Pidge,” Hunk says, and you pull away, turning around to look him in the eye, trying to ignore the sheen of unshed tears. “I can't keep doing this, not like this,” his voice is shaking and_ **_dammit_ ** _this isn't what you wanted_ **_at all_** _. “Please,” he says plaintively, “Can't I just say I-”_

 _“_ ** _Stop!_ ** _” you're nearly shouting, panic setting every nerve on fire. “I told you, Hunk. No. Relationship. No strings attached. Just. Sex.” You feel your gut churning with anger. How dare he ruin a perfectly good arrangement?!_

_“I know, and I tried really hard to keep it that way,” Hunk says defensively, pulling back to give both of you some space. “But…” he gestures abstractly. “The heart wants what it wants?”  he sounds hopeful. You can't allow this to continue._

_“Hunk. I'm in no position to commit to anything. Unless you can_ **_promise_ ** _me that you will_ **_never_ ** _bring this up again, and do your best to_ **_stop_ ** _feeling this way…” You move from the bed, collecting your clothes mechanically, pulling on your panties, your pants, your bra, “This can't continue. No more.  I'll find someone else.”_

 _You're lying. You can't imagine that anyone else in the crew is half the lover Hunk has become for you. You're not interested in alien escorts, either, especially not after that one time with Lance and the training room. But you can't let Hunk think he's special, you can't let_ **_yourself_ ** _think it either. He can't be special, because that would mean you're attached and you can't be attached because attachments just end up hurting you in the end._

_You leave him there, naked, on his bed, half-hard and still sputtering excuses and pleas. You don't look back, afraid of what you might see._

* * *

_You never expected this. You realize, too late, that maybe Hunk doesn't need you as badly as you need him. It's been two weeks. Hunk has already taken a new lover - Lance, of all people!_

_Lance is everything you were not -- affectionate, demonstrative, fearless. He is everything Hunk deserves, and it_ **_hurts_** _. You realize, too late, that you love Hunk too. And you can't do anything about it. He's moved on, and you're paralyzed, unable to move forward, unable to go back._

_He looks happy. You hope he is, even as your heart slowly crumbles away inside you._

_You watch him. He doesn't seem to see you at all, anymore. Even the friendly contact you'd once shared - a bump here, casual lean there, hugs, pokes, elbows and hair-ruffles… all of it is gone now. You know you hurt him deeply, but you are only beginning to realize that you hurt yourself as well. You crave physical contact like a drug, but you don't know how to ask for it. You cry yourself to sleep most nights. If Hunk has noticed any change in you lately, he hasn't said anything to you about it. He hasn't said much of_ **_anything_ ** _to you lately._

* * *

He’s laughing at something Lance said when you walk into the dining room. You try to ignore them with limited success. It becomes even harder to ignore them when playful shoves turn into a passionate kiss. You have to get out. You can't take much more of this.

* * *

Weeks go by. You can't eat, can't sleep. People are beginning to worry. Even Keith notices that something's off. He asks you if you're okay. You lie, make some excuse like you're just under the weather.

Keith confides in you. He likes Lance. Has liked Lance for awhile now.

“Don't be stupid,” you tell him. Like me, you don't add. “Lance is denser than _osmium_ … the densest naturally occurring element on earth,” you clarify at his blank look, “so if you really want him to know how you feel, you'll have to tell him.” You feel terrible, wishing desperately that Keith succeeds, not because you're rooting for Keith, but simply because it gives you another chance with Hunk.

Lance tells Keith he's not the type to just jump from commitment to commitment, that he's flattered, but he already has a boyfriend, and he doesn't plan on changing that anytime soon.

You and Keith mourn lost love together, his loss documented, yours still carefully concealed under cover of darkness.

Two more awful weeks pass, and Hunk breaks up with Lance. The relationship ends on amiable terms, and neither of them will give any details on the matter, simply stating that it was a ‘mutual decision’.

You're desperate, but you're also terribly afraid. Hunk still only speaks to you when absolutely necessary, and it drives you up the wall.

Finally, you've had enough. You're working together on a routine fix, Hunk is crouched by an open bulkhead, fiddling with the wiring.

“Hunk,” you say, and he turns around to look at you. You swoop in, intending to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Instead, your noses smash into each other, your glasses dig into his cheek, and your mouth basically punches into his, teeth clicking against teeth. You move your lips against his ever-so-slightly, willing something, _anything_ to happen.

Hunk is staring at you with wide eyes. He pushes you away somewhat violently. “What the _hell,_ Pidge!” His face is red. “What are you _doing?”_

 _“_ I,” you begin, pausing when you hear your voice crack. “I didn't know,” you say, and then, “It hurts so much.”

Hunk blinks. “What hurts? Are you injured?” Worry flits across his face, but you wave aside his concern.

“I'm in love with you,” you say, and then, to your utter embarrassment, you begin to cry.

For a moment, Hunk looks horrified. Then he envelops you with those warm arms, tugging you into his broad chest, smoothing your hair and rubbing circles into your back as you weep. It takes about a minute for the hysterics to subside. You pull back, sniffling. “Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely.

“So, uh…” Hunk rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “You…?”

“I was _wrong_ ,” you say, feeling it at the very core of your being. “And I hurt you, and I understand if you can’t trust me anymore but I _love_ you, and I had to _tell_ you.” You feel your eyes filling with tears.

Hunk watches you, eyes full of pity, and something else. “Pidge,” he says quietly. “I loved you, too.”

His use of past tense claws at you like a wild animal, shredding your heart in your chest.  You hug yourself, wrapping yourself in a tight embrace like you'll fall apart if you let go. “No,” you whisper, “no, no, nooo…” You drop to your knees, rocking back and forth, clutching at yourself, shaking your head.

Hunk hovers, not sure what to do. Finally, he sits on the floor next to you and pulls you into his arms, buries his face in the top of your head and rocks with you. “You did hurt me,” he says quietly. “A lot. But it was my fault. See, I loved you from the start.”

You still, processing this revelation. “Then why…?”

“I was selfish,” Hunk confesses, voice muffled by your hair. “I couldn't stand the thought of you with anyone else.”

You're still surprised, but it makes sense. “Oh,” you say quietly. “okay.”

“That night, I realized I was being ridiculous,” Hunk said. “It wasn't fair of me to just play along and hope that you might one day fall for me.” He pulls back a little bit, and you burrow closer, not ready to let go yet, not ready to look him in the eye. “It wasn't fair to expect something like that from you, and it wasn't fair to put myself through that based on wishful thinking.” Hunk sits up, moving you away from his chest. “I tried to forget you.” he says.

“I noticed,” you reply weakly.

“It worked, sort of,” Hunk adds.

You nod. “I _noticed_ ,” you repeat yourself, a bit more vehemently.

Hunk chuckles at that a little. “Yeah, I guess you would,” he scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I, uh, might have gone a bit overboard. I wanted you to see that I didn't miss you, I guess.” Hunk turns back to you then, eyes wide and genuine. “I did, though. I do.”

You nod hard. “Me too,” you say, feeling the words stick in your throat.

“Pidge?” Hunk looks at you, a glimmer of something warm and hopeful in his gaze.

“Yeah?” You say softly.

“I want to try something,” Hunk says.

“What?” you ask.

“I want to try falling in love,” Hunk says carefully. “But… together. At the same time.”

“Yes,” you say, then again, “ _Yes_!” You launch yourself at him, tangling your fingers in his soft hair. His lips find yours and you _melt_ into him _,_ his arms wrapping around you and you're shaking, and so is he. You’re crying again, but they're happy tears and as Hunk holds you close you feel his tears mingle with your own, salty and bittersweet. You pull back a moment later to catch your breath. Hunk breathes heavily, eyes shining, tear tracks running down his face. You climb into his lap and lay your head on his shoulder, reaching up to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you,” you whisper. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry,” Hunk replies softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and then, “ _I love you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> .......and then they had lots of hot sex. The end.  
>  I really enjoyed writing this, it turned out a lot longer than I expected though. Hopefully the lack of smut at the end is okay, I just really liked how this ended on a hopeful note.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading, and Happy Birthday, Cupcake-Kei!!


End file.
